The River, The Octopus, The Hero, The Thief
by Polaris Nocturnal
Summary: What if the river didn't kill Otto Octavius?  A mute teenager with no name discovers a monster in an abandoned warehouse, a man with four extra arms. He worries about the police, and so does she. Will her plan work? And is he really is a monster?
1. Something In The Water

_**What if the river didn't kill Otto Octavius? A mute teenager with no name discovers a monster in an abandoned warehouse, a man with four extra arms. He worries about the police, and so does she. Will her plan work? And is he really is a monster?**_

_**Warning, the first paragraph has some sensitive words for those of you who don't like swearing, there is also mention of child abuse. **_

She didn't have a name. Well she did, but no one called her by that name. The names that she was called were mostly,

Little Shit

Little Snot

Little Brat

Whore

Stupid

You

And others

Sometimes it would be a combination, others it would be punches that would address her rather then her name.

When the nameless fourteen year-old needed to get away from her abusive mother, and her mom's boyfriend and buddies and their girlfriends, she did what any mute teenager did. She ran. Of course, she always returned for fearing of what might happen if she came home late or that something might happen to her when she was alone at night.

The girl sat on the edge of a pier, outside of a nearby warehouse where she would hide. But like the rest of the week today was hot and stuffy in there so she decided to sit outside.

She had taken off her scuffed up shoes that had holes almost everywhere and set them on the wood next to her. She dipped her feet in the water, gasping at the coolness. She looked a little ways down. A place that was supposed to be a pier was nothing but a pile of rubble. She wondered what had happened, her mother had mentioned it, but they never watched the news or anything like that so she wouldn't know.

There were several cops standing nearby and the girl lowered her head and listened.

"It's been almost a week; I think it's time to start cleaning up."

"It hasn't almost been a week. It's been like almost two days one and a half. Stop exaggerating. Now what about Doc Ock?"

"What about him?"

"Don't you think we should at least go down and get him?"

'What for? He's got no family. No point really."

The other cop looked at his partner sceptically. "It's our job."

"No it's not. Besides, when they had the divers down there yesterday, they said that they couldn't find any trace of him."

Something caused the water to bubble and splash upwards, rubble and debris that had set on the bottom rose to the surface.

"What the hell?"

"Something probably just settled or something by the bottom."

The girl noticed something out of the corner of her good eye, the other she could barely see out of. She squinted; there was something in the water. She watched as it drug itself out of the water and onto the land by the warehouse. It was moving slowly and strangely, it looked to be in the shape of a man but it had extra limbs.

Something in the water by her feet caught her attention. She looked down, something was slowly sinking. She tried to look closer but what ever it was, it was too dark to see. She leaned closer, nearly toppling over the edge and reached into the water.

She grabbed whatever it was and pulled it out. She blinked. It was a pair of dark sunglasses. She whipped them off on her shirt and looked through them. She shrugged, eh. Good enough.

She looked back over to where she saw the man. There was nothing there now. She stood up, she still couldn't see him. She was going to go and look, but a shout stopped her.

"Hey! Hey you! Hey Kid!"

She turned, the cops were addressing her.

"Get out of here; don't you know it's not safe?"

The girl scowled. She didn't like police; they always stuck their noses in business that didn't concern them. She put her shoes back on, tying the strings that used to be laces.

She looked back in the direction where she saw the man dragging himself out of the water before placing the little too large sunglasses on her face. She ducked her head and stuck here hands inside her sweater pockets. She headed into the city, trying to find anyplace that didn't have a bunch of cops and that wasn't home. There were very little places like that. But she would manage, she always had.

_**An:**_

_**Okay, this chapter sounded bad but I promise it will get better.**_

_**Review!**_


	2. Out of Water

_**AN**_

_**Nothing except the Mute Teenager belongs to me.**_

_**Everything in Italics is 'thoughts' of the tentacles and Otto and everything bold is something that has been written. **_

_Stay alive! Stay Alive!_ The thought echoed through Otto's head. He had said he wouldn't die a monster, so he tried to do the right thing which meant death. But the thought echoed through his head none the less. As he sunk he realised that the thought wasn't really his.

_You don't have to die! Swim! _As he started loose his oxygen he realized that they were right. He didn't have to die, he could live!

_Yes! Yes!_ But then, _if I do that, then, I'll be arrested. _

_Arrested, but alive!_

_I don't want to be arrested._

_But you want to live!_

The entire conversation took less then ten seconds, and before Otto could do anything, a piece of debris hit him on the head. His eyes may have been open, but he saw nothing. Water filled his lungs and the actuators lights turned off. An echoing thought

_Stay Alive! _

Yes, the actuators didn't want to die, and they knew that deep down their host didn't want to die either. Otto's heart slowly started to stop. The actuators tried something desperate; they fought to turn back on. Otto opened his eyes, he started coughing out water. He had no air, he was going to die.

_Live! _

He watched as the actuators lights turned back on, then he closed his eyes and went to sleep. Bubbles of little air rushed out of his mouth.

He had been unconscious until he felt the water pour out of his throat. Otto coughed, he couldn't see anything. It must have been night.

_I'm alive. _

_Yes._

_How?_

_Helped. _

Otto couldn't move. He was lying with his feet in the water and his head on something hard. He coughed up more water.

_I don't want to live._

_Yes, yes we do._

_No._

_Alive._

And then he closed his eyes again. Burning pain in his throat, lessened as he slept on the shore.

Voices, not in his head. Someone was talking. And that was woke Otto up. Light. They were talking about him. The voices. They thought he was dead. He could have almost laughed, they hadn't spot him. Yet.

_Find somewhere safe. Rest there. _

Once again these thoughts were not his own. But he listened. Slowly he tried to stand but could only get to a crawl. He moaned, something had happened to his leg and all he could feel was pain. Using his hands and the help of two of the tentacles he slowly pulled himself toward a warehouse.

The warehouse was old and broken down; he easily found a piece of metal that could be ripped off so he could crawl through. He dragged himself out into the middle of the floor, away from crates and boxes and turned on his side. His lungs hurt, his head hurt, hell everything hurt. Sleeping outside for almost an entire day hadn't helped much either.

_I should be at the bottom of the ocean._

_No._

_I shouldn't be alive._

_We are._

_God, this hurts._

_But alive._

Otto groaned. Sleep, he needed sleep. He needed to be ready for tomorrow.

_I restart tomorrow. I'll start working tomorrow, rebuilding whatever I can. Might as well. I wanted to live._

_Yes…sleep…_

Soaping wet, in pain and in fear, he some how managed to fall asleep.

_**AN:  
>Okay, this chapter also sucked, but I swear, I now know where I am going with this story so the next chapter will be wayyyyyy better then this one. I just don't know what it's like to be him right now, so I can't put myself in that position.<strong>_

_**But review and let me know how well I did do and well I didn't do. **_


	3. A monster

It had been brutal. Joan walked the streets with new bruises on her face. Fresh purple ones and a black eye to add at that. It had been her own fault. She got home and bumped into her mother's boyfriend Darrel.

She stepped in a puddle. Water filled her shoes and she scowled. She put her hands in her pockets. She was wearing her red hoodie. It was her favourite shirt. Apparently it was from her father. She of course wouldn't know since he mysteriously disappeared one day. She had been five at the time. Seven was when abuse started; twelve was when…she didn't want to think about that.

It was a bit windy out today, but her sweater kept her warm. Still, she wanted to go inside. She walked down to the piers, noticing the crew pulling debris out of the water. She fingered the sunglasses in the large sweater pocket. She wondered what had happened. She didn't watch the news and she couldn't read the news papers. It had been two days since the cop had told her to get lost. She didn't want to make them angry by appearing the next day.

She walked up to the warehouse, being careful not to be seen, she pulled back on a loose piece of concrete, to reveal a hole, big enough to squeeze into. Carefully she put it back in its spot. It was darker in the warehouse, the only light the sunlight drifting though the green and yellow stained windows. She sat with her back against a crate. She closed her eyes, willing to fall asleep. That is until she heard something drag across the floor. She sat up.

She slowly turned and looked over the crate. Behind it, lay more crates and boxes. And beyond that…a man. She froze.

He was tall, with wavy brown hair and brown eyes. He walked with a limp and…and….and he had extra…arms? They looked like tentacles.

Four of them, producing out of ripped holes in the back of a long dark green trench coat.

He looked familiar; she just couldn't place where she had seen him before. He seemed to be working at a makeshift desk with small amount of supplies that she didn't know the name of.

Maybe I just go away he won't notice me…

She thought as she slowly started to back away. But she gasped as something closed around her waist and dragged her forward.

Two days, he had been here. Otto looked around, it was a dark place, but he had been in worse.

He sat at a little makeshift desk that he threw together. On it were small bits and pieces of things he had stored away before he tried to save the city. He had played it smart and kept most of his stuff, like extra parts and his money away from the pier in case the cops showed up one day.

He had left and bought some items, while wearing his fedora, and trench coat with the false back. He had also gotten a few stares from people since he wore his goggles. The cashier had looked at him strangely but the look passed when Otto had handed him the money.

Now he worked on a small project wondering what he could do.

One of the actuators – Larry he called it- spotted something in the back. Otto froze. It was someone; they were watching him and slowly backing away. Otto turned around, he couldn't see them properly. He lashed out with the actuator and grabbed them by the back of the shirt. They didn't make any noise as he brought them closer.

He blinked. It was a small girl. She had dirt all over her face, no. Not dirt. Bruises. She looked at him with dark widened eyes. Her hair was cut short to the point where it was almost in a boyish style. The color light brown, almost like his. Her nose was a little small for her face and she had a split lip. Only when Otto looked closer did he realize that the dirt on her face was really very large bruises. Somebody had beaten the shit out of this kid.

She didn't say anything, she just looked at him. She seemed scared but not terrified.

"What are you doing here?" Otto asked her.

She didn't say anything. She blinked. Her hands went to her shirt collar. He gave her a little shake. "Come on, answer me." She twisted the collar nervously. "Can't you speak?" He asked desperately. She shook her head. "Don't lie." Otto told her, and then noticed her neck. Scars, lots of them, going all along, some of them curved others were perfectly straight. Incision scars, from an operation. Otto had only seen this once before when he was a teenager.

A boy had scars like that on his neck from when it was crushed by something; the boy was mute for the rest of his life. Otto wondered what had happened to the girl.

"Oh." He said quietly. He lowered her a bit and she dangled there usually. He dropped her in front of the desk. She landed on torn up sneakers. He placed a piece of paper in front of her with a pencil.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked.

YOUR THE GUY WITH THE EXTRA ARMS

She wrote. She had nice writing but her grammar was terrible. She smirked up at him.

THAT'S ALL I NO.

She misspelled know.

"What are you doing here?"

She shook her head.

Otto sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you have a name?"

The girl nodded.

"Well what is it?"

She froze. The pencil inches above the paper.

"Well, I have to call you something; I can't just call you kid."

She never told anyone her name before… She wrote in shaking letters.

JOAN.

"Otto."

She looked up at him. She smiled slightly.

"What are you doing here?" Otto asked again.

She still didn't do anything. This was going no where. What was he going to do with her? She might bring the police. They thought he was dead and he liked that, he didn't want it to be ruined.

A thought whispered in his head.

"Joan, are you hiding?" Her eyes widened. Then slowly she nodded her head.

"From who?"

POLICE.

That startled him. "Why?"

THEY MIGHT BRING ME BACK.

"Back? Back where?"

She put the pencil down stubbornly. She looked at the ground.

Otto looked at the bruises on her face. She was obviously an abused child. Meaning she really didn't want to talk about it. A thought struck him, if the police were looking for her, she wouldn't go to them. He was safe for now. Then he wondered how old she was. So he asked. She held up one finger, and then she held up four.

Fourteen. Oh hell, that meant…he hoped that wasn't the case.

She didn't look fourteen, but then again she was a little small for her age. He pursed his lips. What to do?

Her face suddenly lit up and she grinned. She reached into her sweater pocket and pulled something out. She held her hand out to Otto. Otto held out his hand. She dropped something in it. He looked, it was his sunglasses. He blinked.

"How?"

I NO U! U CLIMBED OUT OF THE WATER TWO DAYS AGO. THES MUST B URS.

Otto wondered why she was leaving out letters in her words.

"You saw me?"

I THINK IT WAS U. IT HAD TO B. I SAW THOSE THINGS. Then she pointed at the actuators. He told her what they were. She stared blankly at him. He shook his head and chuckled.

CAN I STAY? She wrote.

Otto thought. She might turn him over to the police, but it was unlikely they would believe her. She might mess something up. But then she might not. She didn't seem afraid of him; in fact, she didn't even seem to know who he was.

"You can stay. Just don't touch anything!"

He said looking at her. She dropped a wire she had picked up.

"And don't bother me."

She held up her hand like she was making an oath. Otto nodded and went back to work.

Joan hopped up on a crate next to the table. She leaned over to see what he was doing. He looked up at her and she leaned away. He went back to work. She scooted closer, closer, closer. He cleared his throat. She backed away. She leaned over to see better and he glanced at her, not doing anything to make her go away. Otto playfully scooted closer to the table blocking her view. He heard her huff. Then something scraping the ground. He looked up. She was moving the crate. He went back to work. Flo- another of his tentacles watched Joan. She was moving the crate a little bit behind Otto's shoulder. She climbed back on and leaned over his shoulder to see.

This time he didn't move.


	4. A Thief

Otto didn't notice really as Joan left that night. One minuet she was there, the next she wasn't. But then again, one minuet he was working, the next he had accidently fallen asleep.

She had apparently left him undisturbed and his stuff. The only thing that gave any sign that she was there at all, we the note she left.

I DIDN'T TUCH ANYTHING. I LET U SLEEP. GOOD BY, C U LATER.

She misspelled several words, but Otto just crumpled the note and sat back down. What to do with that girl?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Joan had woken up early at five am, before anyone in the house woke up. She stepped over bear bottles and pizza boxes. She walked out into the hall to see there was a mess of something on the wall.

She walked through the living room. It looked as through a frat house had blown up. Darrel and her mother were asleep on the couch in nothing but their undergarments.

Darrel's friend Chris and his girlfriend were sitting on a chair. And Steve and his girl friend were in the corner of the room. Joan quickly averted her gaze away from them. She walked into the kitchen where there was more mess. She grabbed a small shoulder satchel that was draped across a kitchen chair. She checked inside, a pencil and a notepad was all that was in there.

She put it on and slowly made her way to the door. She opened it and left the house.

Her first stop was the store. She needed to pick up a few things. She walked down the street. She ignored the looks that passers by gave her. She lowered her head as she entered the store.

She walked by the fresh fruit. She walked past a stand of apples. Carefully without slowing down she moved two apples from the stand to her bag. She did the same thing with a couple of oranges.

She moved down to the deli. A couple wrapped sandwiches sat on a display case. She grabbed two of those, thinking maybe Otto would like one. A shout made her freeze.

"Hey! Put those back!"

She started walking.

"Hey! Kid! Stop thief!"

Joan started running. Out the store doors and down the street, keeping her head down.

She slowed down as she turned the corner. She looked around it with her good eye, and sighed. They weren't chasing her. Hopefully they didn't see her face. She didn't normally like stealing, but it wasn't like her mother was going to feed her.

Joan shook her head. It didn't matter. All that mattered was survival. Speaking of survival. She bumped into someone. They were one of the nice New Yorkers. In fact, they were nice enough that they didn't notice that when Joan bumped into them, her hand went into their jacket pocket.

"You alright?"

Joan nodded.

"What happened to your face?"

Joan ran, leaving a very startled citizen.

A few blocks away, Joan stopped running. That was another thing she didn't like. She didn't like running.

She opened her hand to see what she had grabbed from the New Yorker. Five dollars. You can get a coffee for five dollars, and a cookie. She smiled.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Joan entered the warehouse. Otto was sleeping at the desk. She didn't blame him, it was only seven. Back home everybody was still sleeping.

She walked up quietly behind him and sat on her crate. She crossed her legs and looked at him. The actuators or whatever he had called them (she called them tentacles), hung loosely as though they were also asleep. Otto mumbled something that sounded like 'Rosie.'

All signs of tension was gone from his face and he didn't look worried about anything. Joan liked Otto better this way. He didn't look wound-up as Steve would say. She wondered momentarily if she should wake him. She put her head in her hand and sat there. She placed the paper cup of coffee on the table next to Otto. He must have been a light sleeper or something because she put it down and he jumped. He looked around and his eyes stopped on Joan. She looked at him with wide eyes.

He huffed a sigh. "Oh. It's you."

She shrugged.

He looked at the coffee cup. He looked at Joan. He pointed at it. "That for me?"

She smiled and nodded. Otto offered a small smile and took a sip. "Thank you." He said.

She waved a hand dismissively, then started unpacking her bag. She gave Otto an apple and a sandwich.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Otto watched as Joan unpacked. She placed a sandwich and an apple in front of him.

"Where did you get these?"

She pulled out a pen and a note pad.

DOSE IT RELLY MATTER?

She spelt does wrong.

She stole them. Otto couldn't say anything since he had done worse and it was the only way she could eat.

She started eating her own sandwich. Chewing and looking at the rafters thoughtfully. Otto started back at his work. But something kept bugging him. He put down his screwdriver.

"Joan?"

She looked down at him.

"Who hurt you?"

She looked down and shook her head.

"Tell me. Please." Otto asked. He hated seeing kids like this. He at least had his mother, it appeared that Joan didn't have anyone.

Joan shook her head. She wiped her eyes with the palm of her hand. Oh god. Now she was crying. Otto didn't know what to do. When Rosie had cried, he had _comforted her, traumatized fourteen year olds were a different story. _

_ "Was it your mother? Father? Who?" _

_ Joan let out a small sniffle. It sounded horrible in Otto's ears. _

_ "Awww." He muttered under his breath. "Hey." He touched her shoulder lightly. _

_ She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. _

_ Otto froze. He didn't know what to do. The last person who had hugged him had been Rosie. And he barely knew Joan. _

_ Using his better judgment he hugged her back, he felt her flinch and then relax. He patted her on the back of the head. The _actuators curled slightly but did nothing else. She pulled away. She looked at him with big brown eyes before wiping away more tears.

"Who hurt you?" He asked again.

Joan looked down at the ground like she was ashamed.

Then really quietly. "…Mo…m"

Otto blinked. She talked. Joan's voice was quiet and hoarse, it sounded painful. She made a face and gripped her throat.

Otto was still blinking. "You talked."

Joan grabbed her pencil and paper.

IT RELLY HURT THO. I CAN ONLY SAY SMALL THINGS. DR SAID IF I TALKED TO MUCH TO FAST I COULD LOOSE MY VOICE.

"Okay…" Otto said nodding. It made sense. Then he caught it. She had said mom.

"Your mother did this?" He asked horrified.

Joan looked like she was about to start crying again.

NOT ALL OF IT.

"Who?"

DARREL, STEVE, AND CHRIS.

Otto gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry."

DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOT IT.

Otto internally groaned. He couldn't do anything about her. All he could do was work. Which he did.

OOOOOOO  
>Otto paused from his work. "Joan."<p>

She looked at him.

"You're breathing down my neck again. Personal space."

She let out a giggle and backed up.

Otto looked back down at the desk. "Where did my screwdriver go?"

Joan handed it to him.

Maybe she wasn't that bad.

_**An**_

_**Review and check out the pictures for this story on my deviant art account**_

_**Polaris-The-Bad-Guy**_


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